


Peaceful Noise

by flowri83



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clubbing, M/M, Pining, Stiles needs his space, dance fic but not really, the sheriff's name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowri83/pseuds/flowri83
Summary: Stiles goes somewhere one night a month, the pack don't know where he goes.But he comes back happy, so that's enough.





	Peaceful Noise

No one in the pack knew what Stiles did every third Thursday night, and everyone in the pack knew not to ask. 6 months ago, he had simply and firmly stated that he needed a night away from supernatural bullshit and for them not to disturb him. (Okay, so maybe he had screamed at Erica and Isaac when they dropped into his bedroom unannounced for the THIRD time in a week but still). The agreement was that after 5pm the third Thursday of every month, no one texted him, called him, dropped by or tried to reach him through his Dad?! (“jeez Stiles that was one time” Scott had whined). Derek wasn’t curious. He wasn't. Couldn’t care less. 

There were theories of course. The most common being that he was either jerking off or had a secret girlfriend, on account of how relaxed and laid-back he was upon his return on the following Friday. He was clear-headed and calm, and less frantic in his movements. Like someone had let the air pressure out of him a little. Derek soon quietly assessed via some subtle scenting (that he would never admit to) that neither of those theories were the case. For one, he’s pretty sure that as a 19 year old guy, Stiles had been jerking off since he knew what jerking off was so that wasn’t anything new for him, and secondly he didn’t come back with somebody else’s scent on him which would be hard to avoid if he was seeing somebody. 

Derek wasn’t going to complain...exactly. He was always grateful for days when Stiles wasn’t as much of a vibrating ball of nervous energy, but there was something unsettling about the whole thing. What was it that made Stiles calm in a way that he never was the rest of the month? And why did it unnerve Derek so much to see Stiles this way? In pack meetings the day after he found himself hyper-aware of the lack of Stiles’s constant fidgeting, his flailing limbs and expressive hands. He found himself watching out of the corner of his eye waiting for Stiles to move in an explosive way but there was nothing. He was....smooth in his movements. Relaxed in his frame in a way Derek hadn’t seen before, and Derek spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. Why did he care about Stiles’ body language? 

(come on, he knew why he cared but wasn’t going to explore that, nope.)

\---------------------

Derek never intended to break Stiles’ rule, he didn’t. He wasn’t looking for Stiles, he was simply following up a lead on some rogue hunters in a neighbouring town. His sources had led him to a small, underground nightclub. Made sense really, lots of dark booths for secret meetings, and the heavy bassline pounding through the building was perfect for covering up unsavoury conversations. Derek was loitering by the bar, nursing a club soda and trying to blend in with the crowd when he saw him. In the nightclub. On the dance floor. Dancing. 

\---------------------

When Stiles was younger, and he was trying to get to grips with his ADHD he soon realised that music helped him. The more repetitive the better. He could concentrate so much better with his headphones on, music loud in his ears drowning out any other distractions. 

When he finally snapped at the pack that he just needed some goddamn peace and quiet - he didn’t mean that literally. He just needed some time away from the crazy, supernatural shit. And being the ‘go-to guy’ was fine but not when it become ‘go-to at all hours of the day or night and be expected to drop everything-guy’. That first time, when faced with a ‘free night’ he had worried he’d get bored and go straight back to the wolves, but then it struck him. He knew what he wanted to do, what he needed to do. He was going to give in to the craving he felt with his whole body. 

He found out about the club from Danny, who said he’d been there a couple of times with an ex. They played loud music, and didn’t check IDs on the door if you were cute enough. Turns out, in Meadow Hills Stiles was cute enough. 

So this was what he did, every third Thursday. He’d get in his jeep and drive 40 miles to dance and lose himself in music for a couple of hours. The only person who knows where he goes is his Dad, because he promised himself he’d never let his Dad worry. He knew the pack were curious, once Erica has suggested he had a secret girlfriend and he could barely hide his smirk at that. Firstly, it had been a good long while since he’d paid attention to girls in that way. About the same amount of time, in fact, that he’d known Derek. His potentially fluid sexuality was pretty much solidified when that snarky, grumpy asshole had become a part of his life. Secondly, well, there was no secondly. Stiles wasn’t dating anyone, not even in secret. That wasn’t what he needed. 

He tired to explain it to his Dad, his compulsion to go to the club. 

He explained how the loud, pulsing music drowned out all the busy thoughts in his head. How it allowed him respite from maps, bestiaries, investigations and theories. For one night the only thing he needed to think about was the beat, the tempo, the lights, his body. 

His body that was constantly moving in time with the music, sweat prickling down his back from nothing but joyous exertion. There was no fear, no dread. He moved his legs to dance, or to walk to the bar for water - he wasn’t running for his life from monsters. He was entirely in control of every motion in his limbs. His natural nervous energy finally had this electric output that carried with it no consequences or judgement. 

He took comfort in being surrounded by flashing lights of every different colour instead of lines of string connecting victims to threats. This wasn’t a murder board, or something to be figured out, this was just pure sensory immersion. 

The people who touched him in the club weren’t doing so with murderous intent or emotionally laden with familial comfort. It was fleeting, searching, but never violent. (People were on the whole pretty decent, the regulars soon learned by the way he brushed off every interested party that Stiles was someone who wasn’t at the club to hook-up. He politely made it clear he wanted to dance and they left him alone, moving on to better targets.) 

Perhaps the thing that really sold it to his Dad was when Stiles admitted that on nights he’s been to the club he never had nightmares. He brings home ringing ears and a pleasantly exhausted body and he just sleeps. So, once he had persuaded his Dad that he wasn’t a) drinking b) trolling for no-strings sex or c) doing drugs, John had just shrugged with faux-complacency and said “well, you do what you need to do to be...okay. I just want you to be okay.” 

And he was okay. He was for that brief period each month, at peace. With his surroundings, his body, his mind. It was a sort of clarity for him. Until the night he makes his way to the bar and he walked straight into an apparently dumbfounded Derek Hale. 

\---------------------

Seeing Stiles dance, it hit Derek like a punch to the gut. Stiles looked....free. His long limbs moving in controlled, smooth motions in time to the music. His beautiful long neck thrown back in pleasure with the lights of the club making his face a kaleidoscope of blues and reds. Derek had never seen Stiles look like this, never. He’d never seen him look so graceful, or so utterly beautiful. He was breathtaking. 

Derek felt a sudden and inexplicable mixture of guilt, longing and envy. Is this how free and unencumbered Stiles could be without the pack, without Derek, dragging him down? Could Derek ever help Stiles feel this way? Or would it always be something Stiles could only get from this dark, loud, anonymous place? 

Before he realised it, the song had ended and Stiles was there blinking with incredulity in his face. He looked angry, probably assuming Derek had followed him there. He could see the boy’s eyes get hot and his fists clench by his sides, so before he could launch into the diatribe Derek knew was coming he reached out and placed his fingers against Stiles’ mouth, stilling him.

“I didn’t follow you, I won’t tell anyone. This space, this night, is yours and yours alone, and if it’s what you want, I’ll pretend never saw you here. But if you ever want to not be alone, I...I’d love to be the one to share this night with you.” He walked away, leaving a very Stiles stunned behind him. 

\---------------------

A month later, around 6pm on a Thursday Derek received a text that simply stated:

\- I think I’d be ready to dance with someone, tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive any typos. I just had an image of Stiles dancing and my brain dumped it here.   
> Like and comment if you are so inclined.


End file.
